The Huntress
by LadyMarianne123
Summary: Maggie has a link to both Roarke's but only on the original island can she find out what her grandfather's ultimate game was - and how it effects both her and Roarke.
1. Chapter 1

My thanks to MagicSwede who has been kind enough to beta read for me and inspired me to sit down and write this story. As with all these stories Fantasy Island (in all its iterations) does not belong to me. I'm only borrowing.

The Huntress

Harry hurried up the steps on the main house, mentally ticking off the many things he still had to do before the arrival of the Island's next guests. Since the arrival of Roarke's new assistant, Ariel, Harry had made it a point  
of personally ensuring every detail of the island's day-to-day working. "There is no point in giving Roarke any reason to think he can dispense with our services," he thought to himself, walking up to his employer's office door with some trepidation. "Who knows what he would do with us if he thought he could run this place without us?"

"Looking for the boss?" Cal called out, emerging from behind a chair.

"Where have you been?" Harry fretted, glancing around worriedly. "Roarke will have our heads if everything isn't in place when the plane arrives."

"You worry too much," Cal replied, slouching comfortably against the wall.

"Someone has to worry," Harry retorted, pushing the office door open and moving swiftly to the desk. "Now let's see, where is that schedule." He rummaged gingerly through the items lying on the desk, his eyes darting from one object to another at a progressively more frantic pace.

"What are you looking for?" Cal asked, idly examining the other items in the private office. He leaned closer to look at a portrait of a small man in a white suit that sat on a table beside the window. As he looked closely at the  
picture, trying to identify its subject, he noticed the corner of something else sticking out from behind a stack of books. He gingerly pulled the object free and found himself looking at another portrait. "Wow, who's the babe?" he asked, eyeing the photo appreciatively.

"What have you got there?" Harry asked, glancing furtively at the door.

"Take a look," Cal replied, handing the photo to his friend.

The woman in the photo was mid-twenties at the most, with golden skin, long, wavy dark hair and slightly slanted gray eyes that stared somberly out from the print. She was dressed simply in a dark shirt and pants, and held what appeared to be a crossbow in one hand. On the back, in a masculine hand, was one word — Magdalena.

"So, who was Magdalena?" Cal asked, reaching to take the photo back.

"She was born on my cousin's island," Roarke's cold voice replied, as he stepped into the office with Ariel at his back. He held out his hand for the photo, then moved to sit back at his desk, his brilliant blue eyes emotionless. "Don't you both have somewhere else to be?" The implication was clear and both Cal and Harry took advantage of the moment to make hurried exits. Only Ariel stayed, her curiosity stronger than her caution.

"Where is she now?" she asked, moving to stand beside the desk.

"Very far away from here," Roarke replied, laying the photo facedown on the desk. He turned away from the shape-shifter's gaze.

"Did you know her?" Ariel asked, reaching for the photo.

Roarke turned swiftly in his chair and pinned her hand to the desk. "Some subjects, my dear, are best left unresolved. This is one of them. I'm sure you have something you need to be doing in connection with our new guest's Regency Romance fantasy. I suggest you get to it." The tone of his voice was pleasant, but the look in his eyes was not. Ariel pulled her hand free and left the office, wondering about her employer's strange behavior.

Roarke watched his employee's exit unemotionally, then looked down at the errant photo. He turned it face-up and stared for a while at the somber eyes that looked back at him. He remembered once telling Magdalena's mother, Akiko, that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Her daughter had Akikio's inscrutable eyes and her father' Eduardo's high cheekbones, a perfect mix of Chinese and Spanish blood. Her daughter had the gaze of an old soul looking out of a new form. Roarke stared for a few more moments, letting the feelings wash over him like a spring rain. Then he laid the photo in his desk drawer, shutting it and his memories away in the darkness once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Pt. 2

The woman watched in amusement as one after another an assortment of people wandered into the previously unseen shop, driven there by what they thought was an unexpected rain. It was a rain only they and the occupants of the small travel agency acknowledged, for the woman saw no rain, no change at all in the day, though she could feel the spell being used around the building. "Magic can be such a bore," she commented to the man standing beside her.

Byron cocked one eyebrow at her statement, then looked back across the street. "So, are we going in or what?"

"I'm not sure," Maggie replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I've been working so hard to get the estate straightened out that I'm about ready to drop, but I'm not sure that Fantasy Island is the place to take a vacation."

"I thought the place was supposed to be great, a real paradise between this world and the next."

She grimaced at his innocent statement. "I suppose so. My maternal grandparents seem to be fond of it. I don't actually know much about it other than that there are two islands, one darker than the other."

"Define dark," Byron replied, his eyes still on the travel-office door.

Maggie shrugged expressively. "As I understand it, the Proprietor of the darker island has a nasty habit of turning his guests' 'fantasies' into something akin to waking nightmares. All for their own good, of course — or so he claims. His counterpart on the other island seems to have a gentler hand with his guests' needs and desires. My father's family had a base of power on the lighter of the two islands. I was born there and my mother died on it two days later. My maternal grandparents had their base of power on the darker of the islands — which should tell you something about my mother's family. The last time I was at my grandfather Li's home was when I was ten. That was not a good scene. Remind me to tell you about it someday. I'm not sure either would be a good place to relax for me."

"Afraid to see your grandfather Sato?" he asked, propping his lean frame up against the brick wall of the alley.

"Fear hasn't much to do with this. It's just that I've still got too many unanswered questions about what happened to my mother. And why my father did what he did, and what role both my grandfathers had in what ultimately happened to their children."

"Maybe things just spiraled out of control and neither family could stop the free fall before everything hit bottom." Byron looked down at the tattoo of a broadsword on his palm, identical to the one on his friend's hand, with a frown.

"That's what I was led to believe." She watched the last customer leave the shop, dazed by their unexpected good fortune, and quickly made up her mind. "Well, I guess nothing ventured, nothing gained. And I do need some time away from family. Both Islands are very beautiful, full of interesting things for us to do. Maybe I can get through this without doing something I'm going to regret." With a sharp look at her best friend, she trotted across the street and into the travel agency.


	3. Chapter 3

Pt. 3

Fisher looked up in surprise as the door to the travel agency opened again. He had not been expecting any other "customers" for a while. And this couple didn't look like the typical Fantasy Island visitor. The two were studies in black, each dressed in black dusters, black silk shirts and jeans and black leather boots. The only color evident on either of them was the bright red cord that held the woman's long dark hair back from her delicate face and the gold earring in the man's ear. Both wore tinted sunglasses even in the low light of the shop's interior, hiding their eyes from scrutiny. "Can I help you?" he asked, his normally bouncy demeanor subdued.

"Yes, we need to book passage to Fantasy Island." The woman replied solemnly. She glanced back at her friend for a moment then looked at the old man. "Actually, we need to book passage to both islands."

"I'm not sure I can help you." Fisher stuttered, glancing back at his assistant Clio.

"And I'm sure you can." The man shot back, pulling off his dark glasses. His brilliant green eyes swept over Fisher, at once assessing then dismissing him.

"You will send the appropriate paper work to Mr. Roarke, the one that pays your salary." The woman continued, glancing over the top of her glasses at her partner. "Tell him the daughter of the House of Sato and the Bard wish to visit both his and his cousin's Island for a few weeks. He can verify it with Master Sato Ichiro."

Fisher backed up to stand beside Clio's desk, stunned. "Master Sato? The Ghost Warrior? You know Master Sato?" he asked, his voice at once reverent and fearful.

"He's my grandfather." the woman replied wearily. "Not that I'm sure he remembers that. And from what my father use to say Ichiro really hates that title."

"Who's the Ichiro Sato?" Clio asked.

"He's like Roarke, a power!" Fisher hissed, backing up to her desk. "And she's his granddaughter. That's all you need to know."

"The last time you spoke to Ichiro," the younger man chuckled, leaning lazily against the door, "you yelled at him for ten minutes about his connections to the Yakuza, a missing grimoire from your grandfather de los Santos library, and…oh yeah how you weren't ever going to allow him to arrange a marriage for you"

"Whatever." She replied in a bored fashion, pushing her glasses down on her nose to look at Clio. "Shouldn't you be typing or something?"

"Yes, of course she should be typing." Fisher replied eagerly, ignoring the sour look from his associate. "Quick, quick, let's not keep these fine, noble people waiting."

Clio quickly typed up a message that Fisher snatched out of her typewriter and tossed into the message tube. The whoosh of air sent papers flying through the office, a phenomena that seemed to amuse the waiting couple.

"Any bets on what his reaction to this will be?" the man whispered to his partner.

"We'll know soon enough." She replied.

Roarke scowled as the tube slammed into its receptacle in his office. He gingerly fished the page from its holder and read the brief note.

"_Damn it! It isn't enough that I'm chained to island and have to endure these boring, mindless, fantasies. No, now I have to put up with that madman's brat as well_!" He briefly thought of denying the passage then changed his mind, writing a terse reply and sending it back to Fisher. As he turned back to his desk, his eyes caught site of the errant photo which Harry and Cal had found. He studied the familiar face for a moment before he crumpled the print into a ball. A moment later it was nothing but ashes in his hand.

Fisher pulled the response from its tube and read it quickly. He smiled nervously at the duo in front of him. "Well, looks like your all set. They'll be expecting you."

"Good. Thank you." The woman replied, then turned and left as quietly as she had come, her companion trailing noiselessly behind her.

"Who were they?" Clio finally asked, turning from the typewriter to face her companion.

"I'm not sure, but whoever they are, Roarke's not happy to be hosting them and that makes them okay in my book."

He smiled and rubbed his hands together gleefully at the thought of his adversaries discomfort. Clio threw him a disgusted look and turned back to the magazine she had been reading, while Fisher settled in to await their next client.


	4. Chapter 4

Pt. 4

Ariel stopped beside the floral arrangement with a frown. There was something missing from the vase. "Harry's been pulling the lilies from the arrangements again," she thought, carefully moving the remaining flowers to cover the holes. "I thought we were past that with him." Suddenly her sensitive ears caught a sound that was out of place. A plane was approaching the island. She glanced up as Cal trotted out of the bar, a confused look on his face.

"I thought the plane had already arrived," he remarked, looking around for their employer. He tugged at his ill-fitting bartender's jacket, wondering if he had time to get to the bell before Roarke noticed the summons had not been given.

"It has. It appears we are to have some unexpected arrivals." Ariel carefully picked a carnation from the flowers in front of her and tucked it into Cal's buttonhole. "Strange I wasn't informed. Well, we might as well go down and meet them."

"That won't be necessary," Roarke's cold voice interrupted, startling them both. "These are rather unique guests and it is best if I deal with them - alone." His tone brooked no opposition.

Ariel nodded, keeping her expression calm. "As you wish. We certainly have enough to do with the other guests."

"Then I suggest you get to it." Roarke replied, turning and moving quickly through the front doors.

Cal looked at the shapeshifter with interest. "Wonder what's got him so riled up?"

"I'm not sure," she said pensively, watching her employer move quickly down towards the dock. "But I think I had better find out."

--

Roarke watched the sea plane maneuver towards the dock, gently nudging it as it found its berth. It was taking all of his considerable skills to keep his mind calm and detached. It would not do to appear distracted, not in front of her.

"I doubt she would care if you were present at all. After all, it was her mother you loved – not her," a dry voice commented from behind him.

Roarke did not turn to see who stood beside him. "Master Sato, or is it the Kaibutso or Devil these days? What other lovely names does the Yakuza have for you? How nice of you to come visiting. Is this a special occasion, or has Hell frozen over and no one saw fit to inform me?"

"Neither," replied the oriental mage. Sato was older than Roarke, yet retained a semblance of youth, with only a touch of grey in his raven-black hair. His eyes were cold and his mouth was knife-thin, giving him an angry appearance even when he was relaxed. "I just wanted to make sure you understood the rules before our girl comes aboard."

"Our girl?" Roarke scoffed. "Your only interest in her was her gift."

"At least I was honest with her. Unlike Raul."

Roarke stiffened, biting back the denial he knew would be futile.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Sato asked, already knowing the answer.

"Her tenth birthday, same as you. If you're here to torment me, you could at least do me the courtesy of waiting until I've seen my guests settled in their bungalow. I doubt I will be much of an amusement until then."

"Truthfully, I can't figure what you're so mad at me for. After all, you're the one who sent my daughter away without telling her how you felt." Sato smiled cruelly down at his prey, then slowly started to melt away into the harsh sunlight. "I'll be in my dojo – bring them to me."

Roarke clenched his fists behind his back in a barely controlled rage, and then took a deep breath. Ahead of him, the plane's doors had opened and a young couple had emerged from its depths. It had been fifteen years and countless realities since he had seen the child that she was, yet he would have known her anywhere. "Welcome back to Fantasy Island, Maggie." 


	5. Chapter 5

Pt. 5

Maggie stood on the end of the dock and examined the island's proprietor with a jaundiced eye. She hadn't seen him since her disastrous tenth birthday. He hadn't changed, at least in any way that she could see. His magic was probably what was keeping him as she remembered him, all arrogance and piercing blue eyes. Most little girls would have been afraid; but then, most little girls didn't have a former Conquistador and a Samurai for grandfathers. She glanced briefly back at her partner, who dropped their bags in a heap. "This is my best friend, Byron," she said, a slight smile crossing her pale face.

Roarke nodded stiffly, his eyes never leaving the young woman's face, trying to ignore the eyes (Akiko's eyes…) looking back at him. "Master Sato was here." He glanced up at the young man beside his guest, frowning at the aura of magic that clung to him.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Byron drawled, pulling out a slender black cigar from his coat pocket. He flicked his hand and a small flame appeared at the end of his index finger. He puffed on the cigar a moment, then extinguished the flame with a wave.

"Showoff. Those things will kill you," Maggie commented dryly. "Got one for me?"

"You smoke?" Roarke asked, trying to keep the disapproval from his voice.

"I do a lot of things," Maggie replied, taking the lit cigar from her partner's mouth. She took a long, slow drag, then blew the smoke back in Roarke's general direction. "Most of it's bad for me, but then again, life's short; so why sweat the small stuff. So, what did the old devil want?"

It took Roarke a minute to realize she was speaking of her grandfather. "I know you're father didn't teach you to speak so rudely of your betters."

"Betters? Please - that old man needs an attitude adjustment. He's way too used to being treated like the lord of all he surveyed by his family. I swear he practices magic on demons just because he can."

"Last time I checked, partner," Byron interjected, "there were demons in Manhattan. They're called lawyers."

Roarke gritted his teeth, trying unsuccessfully to keep their playful banter from irritating him. "Maggie, I'll arrange to have you taken to the family compound. Byron, I've arranged a bungalow for you nearby."

Maggie stopped in mid-drag and tossed her cigar into the water. "That's not going to work. I'd rather not spend more time than I have to with Mother's family. I was thinking I might like to visit the 'other' island while Byron works his way through all the eligible ladies on this island."

"Really, Maggie, what do you think is going to happen to you if you go up to the compound?" Roarke asked, annoyed.

"Considering that the last time I was up there I psychically witnessed a murder, screamed my lungs out to the point I couldn't speak for a week, and started a Monsoon from sheer magic backlash?"

A deadly silence descended on the trio. Byron looked from his friend to their host, assessing his options and looking for an opening. Maggie could be difficult when she was tired and in a bad mood – which was her current situation. And from the storm clouds that were suddenly gathering out of what had been a bright sunny sky, their mutual anger could prove to be painful, especially to him. "Look, what's the problem? It's not like we're asking for a fantasy or anything. Just passage for Maggie to the other island and a place for me to chill while she..."

"While she what?" Roarke asked, suddenly suspicious.

"You talk too much." Maggie sighed. "I need to go to my grandfather Raul's hacienda and start cleaning it out."

"I doubt he'd appreciate the maid service after all this time," Roarke replied coldly.

"Abuelo Raul is dead. He died shortly after my father was killed in a car accident a few months ago. His will states that his property on Fantasy Island is mine to do with as I wish. Frankly, the only thing I wish is to get this all closed up and maybe see if there is anything up there that might be from my mother. I have nothing from her…" she trailed off sadly, staring out at the water.

"I can make travel arrangements if you would like," a voice replied from behind Roarke. Ariel moved gracefully into the space between the group, a smile on her pretty face. "Hi, I'm Ariel."

Byron returned the smile. "Hi, I'm Byron McMaster."

"Pleased to meet you," Ariel responded, keeping her tone light.

"And I'm Magdalena de los Santos." Maggie replied, taking in this new player. "But my friends just call me Maggie. You're a shape-shifter, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ariel replied, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Byron is my roommate as well as my friend. He's a shifter too. I've lived with him long enough to pick up the signs." Maggie reached down and grabbed what appeared to be a golf bag. "So, where do I go?"

"This way," Ariel replied, gracefully turning and walking back up the dock. Byron reached down and snatched up his own bag, moving to follow close behind their guide.

Maggie started around Roarke, only to realize he wasn't prepared to let her go by. "Is there something else?" she asked, shifting the bag to her other hand.

"We have to talk," Roarke replied, his voice tight.

"You don't need to talk to me." Maggie passed him quickly, bumping against his shoulder as she went past him. She stopped briefly, weighing her words carefully. "You should have talked to my mother – speaking to me isn't going to change what happened thirty years ago." She trotted after her partner, not noticing the stricken look on Roarke's face as he turned to stare after her. Somewhere, a harsh laugh sounded in his ears in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sato.


	6. Chapter 6

pt. 6

"Will this do for you, Byron?" Ariel asked, stepping aside to allow their two new guests to enter the suite. She glanced briefly behind them, looking for Roarke's dark-suited figure.

"I doubt he'll be joining us," Maggie commented, catching the shape-shifter's look. "Talking to my grandfather tends to bring out the worst in people. He probably has to indulge in a stiff drink before he does it again."

"Either that or someone's fantasy is going to turn real nasty real quick," Byron quipped, tossing his bag into a corner and falling lightly onto the sofa.

"Probably the latter," Maggie agreed, a grim smile on her slender features. She turned to their guide and eyed her with interest. "So, Ariel, what's your story?"

"Actually, I came willingly. It amused me to be a part of this…situation," she replied, moving to examine a vase of flowers beside the window. She glanced back at the strange duo, her curiosity getting the better of her discretion. The two were as alike as two people could be, both slender with tanned skin and long dark hair. The man spoke with just a hint of a French accent and moved with the grace of a dancer. The woman spoke with an accent similar to the "other" Roarke's and seemed to draw all the energy from the room with just a look. "What about the two of you? Did both your families live with her or just Maggie's?"

"Just mine," Maggie responded with a laugh. "Byron's family is from France. We met in college, and then moved in together shortly after we graduated. Much to both my grandfathers' dismay."

"So you're married?" Ariel asked, glancing at Byron.

"Not in this lifetime, not in any other," he responded in mock horror, ducking as his friend sent a couch pillow flying at his head. "We're more like family - brother and sister bound by spirit if not by blood."

"So what exactly do you do out there, in the world?"

"We - - well, we hunt things," Byron began, trying to find a way to explain their unique profession.

"What kind of things?" Ariel pressed, looking from one to the other.

"We assist families in finding lost loved ones," Maggie replied, kneeling to open her bag. "Runaway kids, runaway adults, et cetera… Sometimes we help with old cold cases if we're asked. Little bit of everything, not a lot of anything. I'm an archivist and Byron is a member of the Hunter clan – professional trackers for many generations." From the depths of the bag she pulled an ornate leather book, opening it to pull out a set of legal documents. "Between my research and his 'gifts', we do pretty well."

Byron reached around the sofa and pulled his bag closer, pulling from it a katana, which he hefted from hand to hand with a frown. "Want to practice?" he asked, looking down the blade's length with an expert eye.

"Not if you're waving that thing in my face," she replied with a laugh. She fished a parrying dagger from the bag and began to move through the steps of a workout, her partner shadowing her every move.

Ariel carefully moved around the duo and calmly exited the suite, closing the door behind her. She turned to find Cal and Harry standing in the hallway, waiting expectantly for her.

"So, who's the dish?" Cal asked, nodding at the door.

"Someone who is not likely to take your interest in her kindly," Ariel replied, shooing the two men away from the door. "Just make sure that they have everything they want, when they want it. Now, I've got to see about transport for Maggie to the other island. I'll be back to check on them in a little while, so I suggest that the two of you make yourselves useful elsewhere, unless you want to spend another week as farm animals." Ariel sauntered off, leaving the two men to their own devices.

--

Roarke sat at his desk in silence; the room was dark and cold. Maggie's words on the pier had hurt. She was right, of course. He should have spoken to Akiko. But the right time never seemed to appear. If only…

"Regrets?" Sato's voice sounded from the darkness. "Now that's a sight you don't see every day. Where is the proud creature whose arrogant assumptions of superiority were surpassed only by his ability to create havoc without emotion? Or have you forgotten why you are still here, after an entire millennium?"

"I remember all too well," Roarke replied bitterly. "What I've never understood is why I was punished for a sin you seem to have made into a virtue. If we're going to talk about arrogance, old friend, let's by all means talk about yours."

"I didn't fall in love with the daughter of powerful family, then send her away to be married without a word." Sato commented, never leaving his shadowy perch. "Pity her only child was a girl. Though she's proven to be more than I expected. I always knew the girl had it in her to be vicious."

"If she is, then you and Raul have only yourselves to blame for it. The two of you thought you could breed your children like they were cattle, no matter what their desires. What did you think would happen?"

"Something more than we had before," Sato replied somberly. "Someone to continue our lines into the future. Someone to continue our power forever."


	7. Chapter 7

Pt. 7  
Tattoo entered Roarke's office, a handful of mail in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Roarke, seated at his desk, was frowning at a message his assistant had not seen delivered.

"Problem, boss?" the little man asked.

"Perhaps," Roarke replied, folding the note carefully and putting it in his desk. "Tattoo, you will have to deal with the two fantasies currently planned for this weekend. I will be spending some time in the old De Los Santos hacienda."

Tattoo frowned, trying to remember where he had heard that name before. "Where is that?"

"It's not far from the main house. It's guarded by old magic, so it's not something anyone would be able to enter without assistance. Raul de los Santos was once a semi-permanent resident of the island, and the hacienda was his sanctuary. I've not been up there since…" He stopped thoughtfully.

"Since when, boss?" Tattoo asked, curious.

"Since Raul's daughter-in-law died giving birth to his granddaughter. His son Eduardo buried his young wife on the grounds of the estate, then took his child and left the island, never to return. Raul followed soon after, though I never thought he would stay away so long." Roarke smiled sadly at his assistant. "Sadly, both Raul and his son have recently died. Magdalena, Raul's granddaughter, has petitioned to be allowed to come here from the 'other' island and close up her grandfather's estate."

Tattoo frowned suspiciously. "The 'other' island? Boss, does that mean your cousin will be coming with her? You know he's always caused trouble anytime he's come here."

Roarke laughed softly. "No, my friend, my cousin will be remaining on his island. Only Magdalena will be visiting, and only long enough to close up the estate. I suspect she will also want to see what she can discover about her mother's life and death. For her sake, I hope the estate remains her only interest."


	8. Chapter 8

Pt. 8

Maggie surveyed the surrounding gardens with a frown. "This place is beyond boring." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tugging unconsciously at the hem of the T-shirt she had worn to bed. "How long can it take to make travel arrangements?"

"I could stand a little boredom after everything that's happened the last few weeks," Byron drawled, padding noiselessly up behind her, one leg of his sweat pants pulled up to his knee. "I've had enough of dark alleys, teeth and claws, and bloody clothes to last me a while." He tugged mischievously on her shirt, pulling it off one shoulder. "By the way, am I ever getting my T-shirt back?"

"Nope. You forgot it in Cairo, now it's mine." Maggie grinned up at her partner, then stopped, her expression suddenly somber. Across the garden she could see Roarke's dark figure, staring up at their window. "Now I wonder what he's thinking?"

"How mean are you feeling these days?" Byron asked, watching the still figure with interest.

"Mean enough. Why do you ask?"

"Can he see us up here?"

Maggie shrugged. "Probably."

Byron pulled his partner around to face him and kissed her quickly, yanking her back into the shadows before she had a chance to react. He ducked instinctively as she threw the first punch, though not quickly enough to totally evade the blow. "Chill, partner. That was part of the plan."

"Part of the plan? To have me knock your fool head off your fool shoulders?" Maggie lashed out again, tripping her friend with a leg sweep, then sitting on him before he could wiggle free.

"No, to give him something to think about. Make him a little jealous. You know, it's the oldest trick in the book." Byron grinned up at her, totally unaffected by his awkward position.

"Oldest trick in the book? Did it ever occur to you that he probably wrote that book?" Maggie replied, exasperated. A sly grin found its way to her face as she contemplated the idea. "Besides which, it was my mother he was in love with – not me."

"Yeah, but maybe it will give him a reason to get you on the first plane out to your grandfather's hacienda." Byron grinned wickedly, then strolled back to the bathroom, pushing his sleep-tousled hair out of his eyes.

--

Roarke watched as the man pulled Maggie into his embrace and kissed her before falling back into the shadows. At some level he knew that it was possible that the scene he had just witnessed was staged for his benefit. It annoyed him that the young ones thought they could play with him. "So that's the way you want to play this, is it, little girl?" He turned quickly back to his office, the sunny sky suddenly clouding and the ominous rumble of thunder breaking the serenity that had once blanketed the island.

--

Ariel looked up quickly at the sound of thunder. She moved to the door of the veranda and looked out as rain began to fall, catching the staff and guests off-guard. Cal leaped up the steps to stand beside her, water dripping from his clothes. "Where did that come from?" he asked nervously.

"Roarke's upset," she responded, glancing up at the ceiling. "I think things are not going well with our unexpected guests." She winced as a particularly loud clap of thunder echoed through the house.

"This is terrible," he gasped, watching the guests gather miserably on the porch. "What about our other guests?"

"This won't go on long," she assured him, turning on her heel and heading for the office. "Ms. de los Santos will be on her way in just a few hours."

"What are you going to do in the meantime?" he asked, wringing his hands in concern.

Ariel stopped and considered for a moment. "I'm not sure. But whatever it is, it can't make the situation any worse than it is." She moved on gracefully, leaving Cal to fret over the other patrons in her wake.


	9. Chapter 9

Pt. 9

Maggie watched the rain fall like a dark curtain over the island, blotting out the sun with its oppressiveness. "Well, so much for our vacation." She sighed, turning back to throw herself on the bed. "You and your stupid 'plans'. I think our host is planning on drowning us rather than send me to the other island. Serves me right for letting you get away with that stunt."

Across the room, Byron had built himself a nest of pillows and was happily reading through a large stack of computer magazines. He looked up at his sister/friend with a pleased grin. "It's not that bad. At least we can catch up on our reading."

"Only if you plan on tracking lost souls with a new version of the Norton anti-virus program," she replied, tossing a book across the room at her companion. "Enough already! I'm going to go looking for my ride off this hunk of rock."

"Want me to join you?" Byron called after her, not bothering to get up. The silence that met his query told him all he needed to know. He settled back on his cushions and began to leaf through the latest edition of PC World.

Ariel gingerly tapped on the bedroom door, listening for the sound of activity – good or bad – in the room. "Anyone home?" she asked, opening the door slowly. Her brilliant eyes quickly took in the rather lived-in look the suite now had, with bags and clothes and different weapons strewn from one end of the room to the other. She made a mental note to herself to make sure the hotel maids didn't come in without knocking.

"No one but us computer geeks," Byron replied, still stretched out on the floor. He grinned up at the shape-shifter, his handsome face partially obscured by a book. "Anything we can do for you?"

"Have you set up my transport yet?" Maggie interrupted, sounding vaguely petulant.

"Yes. I've sent a message to the other island," Ariel began, carefully settling on the floor in front of the duo. "Mr. Roarke will be waiting for you."

"Mr. Roarke?" Maggie said, looking slightly confused. "You mean the other Roarke? This is going to be way too confusing. Don't suppose you know personal names for either of them, do you?"

Ariel considered her words carefully. "Personal names have power. I suspect neither of them would be willing to give you a hold over them, no matter how confusing it might be to you."

"Maybe you should just give him a name," Byron replied thoughtfully, laying his book down beside him. "We do that all the time to keep people from having a handle on us."

"Perhaps. Though I suspect the 'other' Roarke would be more willing to allow that than this one." Ariel looked around the room somberly, her eyes lighting on a worn leather photo album. "That's interesting. I've seen one just like it in Roarke's office. May I?" she asked, reaching for the volume.

"Sure. It belongs to Maggie and me. Kind of a record of our lives since we became partners." Byron crawled over to sit beside the young woman and started to leaf through the album with her. Maggie dragged her knapsack out of the pile on the floor and started throwing things into its leathery interior, commenting occasionally on photos of people and places of interest to the shape-shifter.

Two photos, mounted in the very back of the book, finally caught the shape-shifter's interest. One was of Maggie with a good-looking man with dirty blond hair and dark eyes. "That was my father Eduardo – Ed to his friends in the Los Angeles County District Attorney's office. He was one of their investigators."

The other photo was also of Maggie with an older, Latino man with dark flashing eyes and long graying hair carefully pulled back into a ponytail. "And that…" Maggie laughed, holding the photo out to Ariel, "was my grandfather Raul during his 'artistic' phase. He fancied himself the next Picasso, dressed like a starving artist and generally did nothing except putter around with paints and canvas until he got bored and picked another hobby."

"You resemble him," Ariel said thoughtfully, carefully examining the photo. Even in this small, paper-based representation of the old sorcerer and his granddaughter, she could see the aura of power that surrounded them both.

"So I've been told," Maggie agreed, laying the album back on the bed. "So…when do I start for the other island?"

"Right now," Ariel replied, motioning towards the door. "Just step over the threshold and you'll find yourself already there."

"Coolness!" Maggie replied, throwing her knapsack over her shoulder. "Keep him out of trouble, will you?" She motioned to her roommate with a wink. "I'll be back as soon as I can." With that she crossed the room, pulled open the door, stepped into the fog beyond, and was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Pt. 10

Maggie blinked in the bright sunshine, staring around at the mirror image of the island she had just left. Sarong-clad young women and native men walked among tourists in shorts and shirts. Colorful birds sat on perches or on the roofs of the adjoining cabins, calling raucously to one another. *Well, this is different,* she thought, dropping her bag to the ground. *It's almost too bright, too colorful, after the other island.*

"Miss de los Santos?" A rich baritone floated from just out of sight. A handsome, older gentleman in a white suite walked towards her. "I am Mr. Roarke, your host."

Talk about déjà vu. Maggie gave herself a mental shake and turned on what her partner called her "mega-watt smile." "Please call me Maggie. When I hear 'Miss de los Santos', I think my aunt Ophelia has turned up." She grinned at her host with humor. "If you've ever met my Tia Ophelia, you'd know why that was a problem."

Roarke smiled as well. "I believe I have met your aunt. I think she even made Raul nervous."

Maggie giggled. "She was a real Grande Dame, wasn't she? I still miss her. You have a lovely island. I'm surprised, though, that my abuelo would have a place of power on such peaceful ground."

"I think it was his wife's idea – your grandmother Adelia. Her power was more nature-based than his, and the island was comfortable for her. She was buried on the estate shortly before your parents' wedding."

Maggie sighed. "Sad memories even in paradise." She frowned suddenly, examining her host closely.

"Is there a problem?" Roarke asked.

"You look so familiar. I'm trying to remember where I might have…" She trailed off suddenly, an image abruptly called up. "Wait, now I remember! *_Mi abuelo_* Raul had a sketch done by one of his sons, of a young man whose family was also magic users. He used to say it was a portrait of Diego." She looked at him critically and then grinned. "You really should have kept the beard and mustache. It suited you."

Roarke laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. "I had forgotten Raul had that sketch." He motioned to the car parked on the path. "Shall we go?"

"I'm in no hurry to see my *_abuelo's_* hideout. Tell me a little about this place. It's so different from the other island." Maggie started to walk towards the car, her knapsack trailing from her hand.

"As you wish," Roarke agreed, following closely behind her. "My cousin and I tend to have totally different views on the world. Our islands reflect those views, so I would expect them to be different."

"That's an understatement. It's like night and day. Which explains why Raul and Sato would pick the islands they did to set up their power centers." She hopped into the car and tossed her bag in the back seat. "I don't remember *Abuelo* ever coming to this island when I was little – I wonder why?"

"The island had bad memories for your father. I suspect Raul didn't want to rub salt in the wounds." Roarke settled himself behind the wheel and turned to his guest solemnly.

"My grandfather? Not want to rub salt in the wounds? Bringing up bad memories was a specialty of his. He never let me forget my tenth birthday when I almost drowned both families at a birthday celebration."

"I remember hearing something about that, but never heard the full story."

Maggie laughed and settled back in her seat. "It's probably funnier now than it was at the time." She shook her head ruefully. "Actually, it still isn't funny, but in a way it was something of a wake-up call for everyone – including me."

"Tell me about it," Roarke suggested gently.

"Let's see…I was ten, my grandfathers for once weren't at war with one another and had agreed to throw a party for both families at Sato's home on Fantasy Island. Everyone was milling around, piling gifts on a table for me to open later. I was sitting under a tree, watching my extended family mingle without trying to curse each other out of existence, when my uncle Tomas walked up to me with a bag." She looked at Roarke out of the corner of her eye. "Did you ever meet Tomas?"

Roarke cast his mind back to the times Raul had brought his family to the island. "Yes, once. He was…how can I put this delicately…?"

"Illegitimate," she finished for him. "Raul was quite the ladies' man, and sometimes he was even a reasonably good parent if the child had talent. If they didn't, however…well, let's just say he looked out for them but didn't have much interest in having them around." She sighed, looking out at the beautiful landscape. "I always felt sorry for Tomas. He had little to no talent to recommend him to his father, yet he always seems to want to remain close. I suppose that's why I didn't suspect anything when he handed me my birthday present. I opened the bag and found a beautifully decorated book, covered in gold leaf and pages of beautiful calligraphy. It was in a language I didn't know, but it was so beautiful that I reached out to touch the writing…and the next thing I knew…" She stopped and shivered.

"What?" Roarke asked gently.

"The next thing I knew I was in a cold, damp dungeon watching strangers pulling a young woman not much older than I was towards a rusty, old tub. A woman in elegant garb stood beside it, with red hair bound up in pearls. She was watching the men and girl with these...hungry eyes. Then suddenly they wrapped a rope around the girl's ankles and hauled her above the tub. One of the men pulled out a knife and…and…" She stopped, appalled at the catch in her voice. "Sorry! I thought I was over it. Guess not."

"They cut her throat," Roarke prodded, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes, and then the beautiful woman reached out and caught her blood in her hands and started to spread it all over her face. I lost it, started screaming and trying to call up flames. Then suddenly there was a voice screaming my name, a flash of overwhelming bright light and then nothing. I woke up days later, with my vocal cords so strained I couldn't speak for weeks. The rain was pouring down and no one could stop it. My father sat with me for hours just rocking me as I cried. The rain didn't stop falling until my tears stopped. Then my father bundled me up and took me back to California, and I didn't see either grandfather for almost two years."

"Did you ever find out what triggered that vision?"

"Not really. I did find out later that the book was once the grimoire of a notorious serial killer called the Blood Countess…"

"Elizabeth Bathorý," Roarke finished softly.

Maggie glanced back at her host with concern. "You knew her?"

"It was a long time ago."

Maggie sighed. "Every time Raul didn't want to talk about something he would say it was a long time ago. Looks like he wasn't the only one."

Roarke calmly started the car. "Perhaps it would be best to go the hacienda." He pulled into the path without another word.


	11. Chapter 11

Pt. 11

The short trip to the main house gave Maggie a chance to review the information her grandfather's lawyer – another of his illegitimate sons – had given her. "Your father's death was a blow to Raul. He updated his will shortly after the funeral, leaving everything to you, including a hacienda located on Fantasy Island. He's been shipping things to that house for years – mostly books, antiques and such – in hopes that one day he could hand it to your father. Now it all belongs to you."

*_Lucky me_,* Maggie thought, watching the scenery flash by. *_Here's hoping I don't get slapped with another vision and try to drown the island or burn it down_.*

"If you don't mind…" Roarke began, glancing over at his passenger, "I'd like to stop at the main house for a moment to check with my assistant on my other guests."

"Sure, not a problem," she said, reaching into her backpack for a folder. "Like I said – I'm in no hurry."

Roarke pulled the car to a stop in front of a house that bore a striking resemblance to the main house Maggie had seen on the "other" island. A small man, also dressed in a white suit, waved to them from the porch.

"Boss, the Morris family's fantasy is good, but Mr. Lucking wants to talk to you about his." Tattoo smiled up at Maggie roguishly. "Hello, pretty lady."

"Maggie, this is my assistant Tattoo. Tattoo, this is Maggie de los Santos." Roarke glanced down the length of the porch at a heavyset, middle-aged man coming towards them. "Tattoo, would you mind keeping Maggie company while I deal with our guest. I shouldn't be long."

"That won't be necessary," Maggie protested. "Just point me in the direction of the hacienda and I'll get started…."

"No," Roarke insisted, his voice deepening in concern. "I do not think that would be wise. Your grandfather was very…careful…about his property. He may have set traps to keep the curious from entering."

"I have no doubt he did," Maggie agreed. "He taught me how to get around most of his wards, and those he didn't teach me I can probably figure out. *_Abuelo_* was not the most imaginative of men. Very educated, with a very broad knowledge of the magical world, but not imaginative."

"Perhaps not…" Roarke agreed, his dark eyes stern. "But I would still be more comfortable entering with you."

"Whatever," Maggie said. "So, Tattoo, where can a girl get a drink around here?"

"Follow me," Tattoo said, smiling happily, leading the way towards the other end of the house's porch. Maggie followed, leaving her knapsack in the car.

Roarke watched them walk away with a frown, concerned at her quick concession to his concern. Then he turned towards his other guest, hoping to head off a long conversation before his younger guest found a way to get to where she wanted to go without him.

--

"So Tattoo…" Maggie began, taking a sip of her drink. She smiled appreciatively at the taste of the orange-mango juice. "Have you ever been in my grandfather's house?"

"No," Tattoo admitted, smiling winningly at the beauty. "The boss has never let anyone go beyond the gates. The stone fence and gate are pretty overgrown, but the natives won't get close."

"Don't tell me they think it's haunted!" Maggie exclaimed, narrowing her eyes.

Tattoo shrugged in typical Gallic fashion. "They say there are lights where there should be no lights, and voices coming from the direction of the house when no one was there. Maybe it's ghosts, maybe it's faulty plumbing and lighting. Either way, no one will go near the house."

Maggie frowned for a moment, then grinned. "I'll bet it's just monkeys. I'd like to see for myself. Don't suppose you can tell me where the front gate is, can you?"

Tattoo frowned. "I don't think the boss wants you to go by yourself."

"I won't be by myself," Maggie retorted, her mind spinning rapidly. "I'll have you along. Come on, Tattoo. I left my partner on the other island and I'd like to clear this up soon so that we can get back to our jobs as quickly as possible."

"What do you do?" Tattoo asked in curiosity.

"We find people, lost people. Sometimes we work on cold cases to clear innocent people. Sometimes we hunt very bad things, or bad people. Just depends on what comes our way." Maggie stared off into space, thinking of the cases she and Byron had worked, cases that had always been of more interest to her father than her grandfather. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. An area in the distance was shimmering, like heat waves in the desert. She recognized the effect immediately. Something was emanating intense magical power.

Tattoo followed her gaze and tensed. "Miss Maggie?" he asked. "What are you looking at?"

"Some place I need to be," she replied. She put her glass down, then suddenly sprinted towards the area of the magic. "Tell Roarke I'll meet him at the house!" she called back.

"The boss is not going to be happy," Tattoo moaned, watching her disappear into the distance.


	12. Chapter 12

Pt. 12

"Boss! Boss!" Tattoo called out anxiously.

Roarke looked back at his friend, his business with his guest completed. "Tattoo? Where is Maggie?"

"She saw something and ran off towards her grandfather's house! She said she would meet you there! I'm sorry, boss – I couldn't stop her!"

Roarke frowned, then turned silently and strode off, disappearing around the corner of the house. Tattoo ran as quickly as he could; but by the time he had reached the corner, Roarke was gone, disappeared into thin air. "I was right," Tattoo sighed. "He wasn't happy."

Maggie jogged determinedly toward the waves of power in front of her. To her annoyance, the area was farther away than she had originally thought. "As many times as I've done this, I will never learn to judge distance the way Byron does," she muttered with annoyance. Her gait was smooth as she negotiated the rough ground and moderately tangled jungle terrain. "Let's hope this is worth all the trouble." A blanket of fog began to form around her running form, turning her skin into one long goose bump. The bright, sunny day she had started with slowly disappeared, turning the jungle into a dark and scary place.

Ahead a wall of greenery suddenly appeared, rising out of a fog bank. She skidded to a stop and looked at the wall of vegetation with a frown. "Oh really, Grandfather! A wall of ivy! How cliché can you get?"

"He chose something 'cliché' that he knew anyone accidentally coming upon his house would recognize," a voice replied. Roarke stepped out of the fog, solemnly joining the young woman in front of the wall. "I thought we agreed I would join you in entering your grandfather's house?"

"_You_ agreed – _I_ never did," Maggie retorted. "I don't need a chaperone. I'm quite capable of handling things on my own. With Father spending all of his time working for the L.A. County D.A.'s office and Grandfather flitting around the world collecting who knows what objects and books and making more little clones of himself, I've learned to deal very well with being alone."

"Be that as it may," Roarke insisted, "I will be joining you in the house. Your grandfather sent many packages to the house in his later years, and it may be that something that he found on his travels will be dangerous — not only to you, but to the people of this island as well — if not properly handled."

Maggie sighed in frustration. "I can tell you were a friend of my grandfather's – you're just as stubborn as he was." She glanced back at the wall and narrowed her eyes. "Very well – take me to the place where the gate should be. I'm betting he put something in the air to distinguish an intruder from a family member. It should recognize me and let us in."

Roarke nodded stiffly, then pointed toward a part of the wall. "There. That is where you will need to stand for the house to recognize you."

Maggie moved a few feet to the right and stood facing the hedge. She felt tendrils of power floating gently over her, caressing her hair in eerie mimicry of her grandfather's fond gesture. Suddenly the ivy wall parted and a gate appeared, opening under its own power. "Looks like I'm a de los Santos all right – let's see what else the old man has set up."

Maggie and Roarke walked carefully down the gravel driveway as the gate closed behind them. In front of them was an old-style Spanish hacienda, surrounded by roses. "Your mother and grandmother both had their power rooted in natural magic. They were also both very fond of roses." Roarke glanced down at his guest. "Are you ready to see what Raul stored in the house?"

"Let's get it over with," Maggie replied shortly, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering with cold. "I never did like roses. The scent is overpowering." She moved quickly to the front door and raised her hand to open the latch. The door swung open in response to her movement. "Another cliché – the old 'haunted house door opening on its own'. Really, this is beginning to feel like a bad horror movie."

"Let us hope that it does not end like a horror movie. Come, I believe the study is this way." Roarke gestured down the hall toward another closed door. "Raul would normally take any new 'toys' there to study them."

Maggie looked at her host with interest. "Doesn't sound like you approved of _Abuelo's_ hobbies. Why is that?"

"He believed himself far more powerful than he was," Roarke replied shortly. "It made for a dangerous situation all around, but…"

"But he could be charming, and he was an old friend, etc. … All the same old excuses that people always give for why they let him get away with the outrageous things he did."

"What I was about to say…" Roarke stopped in the hall and turned solemnly to the young woman. "…was that he was my friend, and it was probably safer for him to be here, where I could control any ill effects of his experiments, than to have him loose in the world to sow the seeds of disaster with his 'interests'."

Maggie sighed, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry – I'm really sounding like a witch, aren't I? It's just that…Raul and my father always seemed to be at odds with one another, and I always got dragged into the middle of it. Or ended up cleaning up both their messes. And it's still happening even though they are both dead. I'm still cleaning up…" She walked up to the study door and laid her hand on the wood panel. It opened automatically, just as the front door had done.

Roarke laid a comforting hand on his guest's shoulder. "Come. Hopefully this will not take long and you can return to your life." He allowed her to precede him, then joined her in the large, dark study.

Maggie reached up to caress the wall. "There's a candleholder mounted on the wall. Why doesn't that surprise me? He was always into the gothic effect." She pulled the candle from its holder and gently blew on the wick. A bright flame appeared, throwing odd shadows into the room. "See any others?"

"Yes – here," Roarke replied, taking a candleholder from a table beside a dusty couch. He also blew on the wick, and another flame came to life.

"I don't suppose there is any electricity, is there?" Maggie asked.

"Not for a while. When your grandfather left the island he had it turned off." Suddenly the overhead lights blazed to life. Roarke squinted at them with a frown, then shrugged. "It appears he made arrangements in case the family returned to the house."

"That's not the only thing he made arrangements for," Maggie said quietly, pointing to the desk. Packages were piled all over the desktop and on the floor around it. And seated behind the desk was a ghostly figure of an old man. "Hello, Grandfather."


	13. Chapter 13

Pt. 13

Byron sat bolt upright in his bed, his eyes unfocused. He stared around him in confusion for a few seconds, then shook his head to clear it and jumped off the bed. He pulled on his sweats and t-shirt, fished a pair of wicked-looking daggers out of a bag and charged out of the room, almost running over Ariel as he did so.

"Where's the fire?" she gasped, trying not to fall over. Her eyes widened in alarm as they focused on the sheathed daggers in the young man's hands.

"Open a door to the other island," the man said coldly. "Open it *now*. My partner is in trouble."

"Perhaps we should talk to…" She stopped as Byron's eyes went red. "On second thought, I'll just open the door for you." She turned and touched her hand to the door he had just exited for a moment. "Okay, just go through…" she started, then blinked. The man was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. She stood still for a moment, then turned and ran back to the main house.

Roarke's eyes narrowed as a feeling of dread washed over him. *What the devil?* he thought. Then he looked out the window to see Saito standing on the front lawn, glaring at him. He opened the window and glared back. "What do you want?"

"My granddaughter is in danger," the Oriental declared, staring at the magic-user with scorn. "Send me to the other island that I may fetch her back to safety."

Roarke continued to glare at the man, then sensed something and looked behind him to see Ariel hurrying toward him. "Problem?" he asked sarcastically.

"Byron has gone to the other island. He believes his friend is in trouble." She glanced at the man on the lawn beside her in concern.

"There, you see? No worries," Roarke snarled, forcing his own concern back into a dark corner. "Whatever trouble the girl has gotten into, her friend will get her out of it. No need for you to trespass on my cousin's land. Especially since the last time you went to his island he banned you for life. So why don't you just go on back to your compound, and I'll let you know how things go." He slammed the window shut and turned his back, glancing briefly at Ariel to ensure she had disappeared. Then he picked up the correspondence he had been reading and blocked out the sound of thunder outside the window.

‡ ‡ ‡

Tattoo looked across the lawn to see a young man come flying out of nowhere towards the house. "Hey, where did you come from?" he called excitedly.

Byron stopped, glanced down at the man and snarled, "Where is Maggie?"

Tattoo backed up hurriedly from the fire-red eyes spearing him. "Who wants to know?"

"Answer me," Byron responded, slowly stalking towards the little man. "Answer me and live."

Tattoo gulped. "She and the boss went to her grandfather's house. They should be back soon."

Byron suddenly looked up, sniffing the air in recognition. "There! There is the scent." He turned and started running in the same direction Maggie had disappeared in, like a hunting dog following his prey, leaving a confused Tattoo in his wake.


	14. Chapter 14

Pt. 14

"Raul." Roarke walked slowly to stand behind Maggie, laying his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"He's trying to psych me out, that's what he's trying to do." Maggie sighed. "Isn't that right, _Abuelo_?"

"I wished to see you one more time, _mi nieta_. Is that so hard to imagine?" the shadowy form replied, smiling winningly at her.

"Raul, if you had really wanted to see me all that badly, you would have attended my father's funeral. You remember my father – your son. You left the country rather than deal with his death." Maggie frowned, trying to remain calm. Losing her temper with her grandfather would leave her vulnerable to his tricks. "So let's try this again – what are you doing here?"

"He's here to make sure you follow the instructions he's left for you – isn't that right, old friend?" Roarke narrowed his eyes and pointed to an envelope lying in plain view on the desk.

"Diego – so suspicious for so young a practitioner. It's unbecoming of you to question your old teacher." The shade that had been Raul de los Santos motioned with one hand; the study door slammed shut behind them.

Maggie glanced up at Roarke. "Your old teacher?" she asked.

"This is not the time," he replied, pushing her gently towards the desk. "For now, let us see what the old devil wants of you."

The shade smiled grimly. "I've left you much here in the house, _nieta_. I've even left you the birthday present that Tomas gave you when you were ten."

Roarke stiffened. "Elizabeth's Book of Shadows?"

"Among other things. It's all yours, _nieta_, all my possessions, all my power. All yours if you can control them." The ghostly figure started to fade from view, then disappeared completely.

"Control them?" Maggie said, a tinge of worry in her voice. "Control what? What has he left me?" She reached over and took the envelope from the desk. Inside was a list of books and artifacts that had been shipped to the house since her father's death. "Looks like an inventory of what was in my grandfather's house after my dad's death." She squinted at the list with interest. "Including my father's Book of Shadows. Strange, I didn't think he had ever kept one. He never seemed to have much interest in learning the craft while I was in the house."

"He has some reason for giving you this list." Roarke looked around at the stacks of items strewn all around the room. "Where do you want to start?"

"I don't," she replied wearily, dropping the list on the desk. "What I want is to go to the beach, get some sun and pretend none of this is happening. But since that isn't in the cards…" She pulled a box towards her, opening it swiftly. "Let's start with finding Elizabeth Bathorý's and my father's books. I have a feeling he specifically mentioned that particular grimoire for a reason…and I want to read my father's words and see if I can figure out where his head has been the last few years."

Roarke nodded in agreement and started opening another box. Neither noticed the ghostly figure that stood outside the study door, peering anxiously in at them.


	15. Chapter 15

This thing is turning into an epic. My thanks to my beta reader for catching my mistakes and let's continue with the story.

Pt. 15

Byron slid to a stop in front of the ivy-covered wall with a growl. The scent had been easy to follow; he'd had enough practice in doing that over the years. Maggie had always been the forward scout when they had hunted, depending on his ability to track her scent anywhere, under any conditions. Following her hadn't been a problem. But this wall was something different. It wasn't just overgrown plants overlapping masonry. There was a ward, a powerful spell, covering it as well.

"You cannot enter," a musical voice proclaimed from his right. Whirling around, he found himself facing a dignified older woman. Her dark hair, touched with grey, was swept up into an intricate knot at the back of her head. Her dress was covered in elaborate embroidery, with images of flowers and birds crowding almost every inch of the surface. Silver hoops glittered from her ears and a silver crucifix hung from her neck. "You cannot enter, at least not this way."

"Who are you?" Byron snarled.

"Adelia," the woman replied with a smile. "And you're Byron – the young wolf from the McMaster Clan."

Byron blinked, startled. "How do you know me?"

She smiled serenely. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe, if it tells me how to get past this ward." He glared back at the fence in frustration.

The woman laughed. "Nothing will get you past that ward until Raul is ready to allow you into his lair." She glanced behind her as though listening to another voice, then nodded. "On second thought, perhaps there is a way, if you are willing to follow an old woman where she leads." She turned and moved away down the fence line slowly, trailing a hand indolently along the ivy-covered wall.

Byron smiled thinly. "I'd follow the Devil into Hell to help my friend. Lead on." He fell into step behind the woman as she disappeared into the fog.

-

Maggie dumped another box onto the floor and kicked the contents across the floor. "Good grief! How many of these Books of Shadows did he own?"

"Most of them are not worth much," Roarke replied, flipping through a mostly empty book. "They look as though they were written by children playing at magic."

"Weird. Why would he spend the money to get them, much less to ship them out here?" She picked up a notebook from the pile and flipped through it without interest. "And no sign of my birthday present or my father's book?"

"None." Roarke neatly stacked the contents of the box he had been searching on a table, then settled onto an overstuffed sofa in front of the table and started to flip through them.

Maggie dropped to the floor beside him, sitting cross-legged beside the table. "So…you knew Elizabeth?"

Roarke glanced sharply down at her. "Now is not the time…"

"Oh, _please_!" Maggie nearly shouted, boiling over. "Do you guys get training on how to be frustrating, or is it in your genetic makeup? Every time I brought up a subject, my father or grandfather refused to explain to me. They would always say it wasn't the time. That book screwed up my tenth birthday and woke up my gifts at the same time, so excuse me if I'm a little curious…"

Roarke raised a hand in resignation, cutting off her tirade. "I knew Elizabeth," he admitted sadly. "I was young and in love. But she had already been touched by darkness…"

"That's putting it mildly," Maggie snorted. "From what I read, she reveled in her crimes, right up till they caught her. My sympathies are with her victims. They didn't have a choice about their lives, but she did."

Roarke sighed, leaning back in fatigue. "She had less of a choice in her life than you might think. It was a different age."

"A very different age," she agreed. "Of course, if you ask either of my grandfathers, they would disagree. You know, they both tried to arrange a marriage for me when I turned seventeen. What a disaster! They sprung it on me on the day of my graduation from the private boarding school Dad had dumped me in after I got kicked out of high school in Los Angeles."

Roarke smiled slightly. "You were expelled?"

She shrugged, but her eyes were alight with mischief. "Yeah, they didn't take kindly to my knocking the star quarterback off the bleachers and setting his football on fire. He was a real jerk, so I didn't feel terrible about it – until my dad came to get me from the principal's office. Then I get sent to some obnoxious boarding school in Switzerland – where I set fire to the Headmistresses office after she expelled a friend. Last but not least I get dumped in a private school in England where the headmistress recognized my 'gifts" since she had fey blood. I managed to graduate from there without burning anything down, at least until I got home. My father came to pick me up after graduation, but when we got home I found Raul waiting for us with the revelation that he'd found me a husband. I think he got the hint I wasn't thrilled with his news when I set his jacket on fire."

"You seem to have issues with fire," Roarke remarked dryly, dropping the book he was holding on the floor. He picked another from the pile, then frowned as he scanned it. "Maggie, I recognize this handwriting."

Maggie jumped up and took a seat beside him. She looked down at the books in his lap, a lump forming in her throat. "It's my dad's writing. This must have been his book." She gently took it from Roarke and turned the pages. After a moment she glanced up at Roarke in confusion. "That's strange. These are notes about cases he worked on, not magic he conjured."

Roarke took the book back and held it loosely in his hand, concentrating on the paper and not the words. "It's charmed to look like something other than what it is." He slid his hand over the page gently and the words changed, from the neat printing detailing crime in L.A. to intricate scrollwork and elaborate drawing.

Maggie started in surprise. "I know that! It's the first conjure he ever taught me."

"It was the first one his father taught him as well." Roarke gently turned the pages till he reached the end of the book. He read the last entry sadly, then handed it to Maggie. "This was meant for you."

Maggie eyed him, then began to read the last few entries. For a moment there was silence; then suddenly she slammed the book shut. "We have to get out of this house," she said tensely. "_Now!"_


	16. Chapter 16

Pt. 16

Byron followed the older woman down the length of the overgrown wall for what seemed like hours. There were moments where she appeared to become almost as transparent as the fog through which they traveled. Other times she looked as solid as the wall, which seemed to extend endlessly; he found that strangely disturbing. *How big is this frigging island?* he wondered in annoyance.

The woman stopped suddenly and looked back with a small smile. "The Island is as large as its Master wishes it to be. Roarke always was quite talented, something that annoyed Raul no end."

Byron frowned. *You know what I was thinking?* he thought deliberately, without speaking, testing a theory.

"Yes, silly boy, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking it loudly enough to be heard across the island." She laughed and then motioned to the wall. "There. That's where you will enter."

Byron glared at the wall in exasperation. "Where? I don't see an entrance."

She pointed to the bottom of the section of wall she was standing in front of. "Here, young wolf. Just enter here and I will meet you on the other side."

Byron squinted at the mass of foliage, then noticed a small opening covered by fronds of ivy. "You have got to be joking. How do you expect me to squeeze through that?"

"You know how, young wolf: just change and make it happen. It must be done if you expect to help your friend." She smiled and walked through the wall as though it were not there.

"I should have known she was a ghost," he grumbled. He stared at the wall, then sighed and dropped to his hands and knees. He concentrated for a moment and then summoned the spirit of the wolf that lived within him, trigging the change. In the blink of an eye, the handsome young man was gone and in his place was a large black wolf with disturbingly human eyes. The beast squeezed easily through the hole in the wall, pushing aside the branches effortlessly. Behind the wall was a beautiful flower garden with rosebushes and other flowering plants arranged in neat, harmonious patterns. The old woman was seated beside a water fountain, smiling down at a rose she had plucked from one of the bushes.

"Good. I knew you could find it within yourself to make the change." She tossed the rose into the fountain with a flick of her wrist.

Byron strode forward, then stopped in confusion. He looked down at where his feet should have been to see instead his dark, furry paws. He willed the change to come, to no effect. *What's going on?* he thought angrily.

"The wolf is needed," she said firmly, rising gracefully from the bench. "Not the man. My husband's spells tend to be very species-specific. I doubt he ever thought our _nieta_ would bring a wolf cub with her. We can use that to our advantage."

"So what now?" he growled.

"Now we wait until Akiko arrives. And then, wolf cub, you will breach the walls and bring my granddaughter out to me." Adelia de los Santos smiled coldly.

-

Roarke rose to his feet immediately. "Why? Why must we leave now?" He reached out and tried to pull the door open, to no avail. He frowned and ran his hand over the panels, searching for what was keeping it closed.

"It's not opening, is it?" Maggie said softly, her arms crossed over her chest. "Dang it! As many hunts as I've been on, I can't believe I let myself get caught in a tiger trap like this."

"Tiger trap?" Roarke glanced back at her, one eyebrow cocked.

"Byron will laugh his butt off when he realizes I've walked into this without checking for traps," she snarled in exasperation. "And it gets worse."

"How exactly does it get worse?" Roarke asked, annoyed. "We are trapped in your grandfather's study in a house no one can get to, with no way to let anyone know there is a problem."

Maggie handed him her father's book. "The last entry talks about my grandfather's plans for me. He detailed his last argument with Grandfather and his guilt that he had again caved in to his father's wishes."

"What did Raul want?" Roarke asked.

"He wanted to arrange a marriage for me before Saito could force the issue. He thought that if he could bring me here, get me into this house, somehow he could convince me to go through with his nutty plan." Maggie leaned against the door for a moment. "Actually, he thought he could get *us* to go along with his plans."

"Us?" Roarke looked down at the book with a frown. He read through the final page again, and then saw the entry he had missed. "Oh. Now I see."

"Yeah. Sorry about this, man, but my grandfather's plan was to arrange my marriage – to you."


	17. Chapter 17

Pt. 16

Maggie dropped onto the overstuffed sofa with a sigh. "Family! Can't live with them, can't bury them in concrete."

Roarke scowled at her for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Raul always was unique. And I suspect he did have your best interests at heart. Your grandfather Saito could be quite…difficult."

Maggie snorted in annoyance. "Difficult? Saito doesn't know from difficult if he thought he was going to force me into a marriage the way he did my mother."

"Your mother and father were a good match," Roarke mused, sitting across from her on the sofa. "They were both quiet, gentle souls. It could have been a much worse situation."

"I suppose so," she agreed. "I just can't wrap my head around someone being able to do that to their own flesh and blood."

Roarke had to agree, though it had worked out better than either family had expected. He pensively studied the stacks of books still littering the room. "The past is the past. We should find a way to deal with the present situation. As I see it, we don't have many options available. We need to find something in one of these books to break your grandfather's spell."

"Or you can just agree to marry me," she said with a grin. "That might actually do the trick."

Roarke rolled his eyes at her humor and reached for the nearest book. "Don't be absurd. I'm old enough to be your father."

"Well, at least it's not because you don't like me," she laughed, flipping open a nearby book. She read for a moment, then stopped and looked back at the study window. "Do you hear something?"

"Like what?" Roarke asked, looking up.

The glass exploded in a shower of crystal fragments as a huge, furry form came hurtling into the room. Roarke and Maggie leapt to their feet, Roarke automatically putting himself between the beast and the girl. The animal raised its shaggy head and stared at them with annoyance in its human-looking blue eyes.

"Byron!" Maggie exclaimed, pushing Roarke aside. "Crap! You scared the hell out of me." She stared at him in confusion as he remained stubbornly wolf-like. "Why aren't you changing?"

Roarke looked at the beast and then back at the girl. "I take it you know this creature?" he asked dryly.

"Later. Let's get out of here before the spell reconfigures." She ran to the window and knocked the jagged glass from the frame, then climbed gingerly out, followed by a bemused Roarke and the large wolf. They stopped beside a bench and turned to see the window's glass reforming, sealing the room again. "Lovely. Just bloody lovely. So we couldn't get out, but you could get in? Something's very strange here."

"Perhaps stranger than you might imagine," Roarke replied, gazing toward the garden. "Look." He motioned at the path, where two ghostly figures stood side by side. "I think your mother and grandmother have something to say to us."

"Lovely," Maggie sighed, shaking her head. "Can this get any worse?"


	18. Chapter 18

Pt. 18

"Welcome home, _nieta_," Adelia's shade called out, gliding silently towards the trio. "It's good to finally see you."

"Ghosts." Maggie sighed in exasperation. "Why is it always ghosts? Every time something goes wrong with a hunt, it's because of a ghost." She glared down at the wolf seated at her side. "And you, you flea-bitten mutt, you should have known better than to agree to anything the dead offer. It never works out well."

The wolf huffed impatiently, all but rolling his eyes at his friend, and then looked pleadingly at Roarke. "Don't look at me, my friend," Roarke riposted with a frown. "I agree with her."

"Diego." Adelia's voice turned from sweet to sharp in a second. "This is not your concern. Do not become involved."

"How exactly is it not his concern?" Maggie asked in amazement, her voice equally sharp. "Your husband trapped us both in the house to try to force us to agree to an arranged marriage!"

"Your grandfather had his reasons." The other shade moved into the light, revealing a delicate young oriental woman with long dark hair and pale skin. "He would have never harmed either of you."

"Hello, Akiko." Roarke nodded deferentially to the younger ghost. "I'm sorry to see you are still bound to this house. I had hoped…"

"I am not bound," Akiko replied softly, slightly surprised. "I like it here. It is peaceful, the gardens are beautiful, and I was happy here."

"And your father isn't here to bully you?" Maggie looked at her mother's shade with interest. She remembered what her father had said about his late wife, about her gentle nature and real fear of her father Saito's disapproval. Maggie had wondered, ever since she could remember, what it would have been like to have her mother in her life. "Personally, I would have told him to take a flying leap a long time before you did."

Akiko looked at her mother-in-law in confusion. "I don't understand. Why would I do that?"

Adelia sighed. "I fear, little girl, that your daughter is more like my bloodline than yours." The older woman gently patted the woman beside her, then addressed her grandchild. "Akiko isn't you, child. She didn't have the courage to stand up for herself against her father, like you did."

Roarke cocked an eyebrow at the young woman beside him. "You stood up to Saito?"

"I set him on fire. He was being annoyingly obtuse. It's a long story. Let's concentrate on the here and now, if you please." Maggie glanced back at the house. "Oh crap – here comes _abuelo_."

The ghost of Raul de los Santos appeared in a swirl of wind and leaves, his eyes flashing in anger. "Adelia! _Mi esposa_! What are you doing?"

"Trying to make sure you don't make the same mistake with our granddaughter that you did with our son," Adelia replied tartly, crossing her arms and glaring at her husband.

"She's got to continue the bloodline. There is no alternative. None of the others of my blood have the promise that this girl does. But annoying child that she is, she won't make a choice. She won't consider Diego, she won't even choose this wolf cub that lives with her. If she won't consider any of the other young men I suggested in life, then she will agree to this mating that was arranged after my death."

"Did these two always go after each other like this when they were alive?" Maggie asked Roarke, dryly.

"I'm afraid so" Roarke replied dryly.

"I disagree," Adelia replied hotly. "She cannot choose a shifter. They are not of the same level of magic that we are. I've no issue with Diego, but I don't think he's quite right for her either. He's a good enough boy…"

"I haven't been a 'boy' in a very long time," Roarke commented dryly.

"Don't interrupt," Adelia snapped. "We have issues to discuss."

"Like hell you do," Maggie retorted. "My life, my choice. If I decide to marry, I will. If I decide to enter a convent, I will. If I decide to follow the virgin goddess and become a hunter, then I will. It's MY LIFE!" Her voice rose in anger as the winds grew wilder. Suddenly the rosebushes behind the feminine ghosts burst into flames, burning with an eerie blue fire. The grass began to smoke as well, sparks flying off the bushes and igniting the dry leaves along the path. The wolf beside her began to whine and back up, bumping into Roarke's leg in the process.

"Maggie…" Roarke began, a note of warning in his voice.

"I know," she replied coldly. "Things are on fire. They usually are around me. I wonder, though, if I can summon enough heat to burn away the remnants of the ectoplasm that holds these spirits to this land. Any bets I can do it?"

*"No!"* Akiko cried out suddenly, holding out her hands to her lost child. "They wish only happiness for you. To protect you from my father's influence. They love you!"

"Oh, I have no doubt that they *think* they love me. The problem is, they love only the possibilities that my genetic makeup brings to the playing field. I'm a pawn – just like you were, just like my father was. Only difference is that I'm not going to play the game." She glared at the two older ghosts, then turned her back decisively.

"Saito will not be as kind to you as we are, girl," Raul growled. "He will not take no for an answer."

"Let him try," Maggie replied coldly. "I might not win, but I'll sure as hell make certain he knows he's been in a fight."

Roarke held out a restraining hand to the ghosts in front of him. "Enough. She's made her choice. There will be no more said."

"You will not interfere here, boy…" Raul growled, his translucent form rippling with sparks.

"I *will* interfere," Roarke replied coldly. "This is my island. This estate might have been your home, but this is my island — and here my word is law. This ends now."

Raul and Adelia stared in disbelief as their ectoplasmic forms began to fade. Soon all that was left was the sound of their quarrelling voices fading into the wind. Only Akiko remained, standing uncertainly alone on the garden path.

"Must I also go?" the petite ghost asked sadly. "I'm happy here."

"No," Maggie responded gently, turning to face her mother's shade. "Stay if it pleases you. Perhaps in time, when he has worked through his own pain, my father's soul will join you in this happy place." She smiled sadly, hearing her father's voice in her childhood, telling her about the mother she would never know. "He loved you very much."

Byron felt the change come over him as the spirit of the wolf left his form with a start, allowing him to return to his human shape. "Finally!" he groaned, rising to stretch his long limbs. "I thought I'd never…" He squinted at the garden around him with faint alarm. "Uh…Maggie? Shouldn't you, maybe, turn the fireworks off?"

Maggie frowned, then sighed. "Yeah, I probably should." She concentrated for a moment; the fires died, leaving smoldering leaves in their wake. She grinned wickedly at Roarke and shrugged. "What can I say? I have issues with fire!"

Roarke and Byron sighed. Akiko smiled at her child, then faded away, leaving the scent of roses in the air.


	19. Chapter 19

Pt. 19

Maggie stretched, standing on her toes and reaching for the sky. "Well, that was interesting - _not_. And I'm right back where I started, with an estate to close out, a house full of magical books, and absolutely no desire to deal with either."

Roarke looked back at the house with a frown. "Raul may have set other traps in there."

"Probably," Maggie agreed, blowing out a stray flame on a nearby rosebush. "But it's not like I've got much of a choice. I can't just leave this place as it is. Someone might wander in and get into trouble."

Byron looked at both Roarke and Maggie with a frown. "Question: Mr. Roarke said it was his island when he sent your grandparents off to wherever it is he sent them – so how come he got caught in the house?"

Roarke eyed the young wolf with amusement. "It may be my island, but not every event that occurs on it is totally within my control – especially if I wasn't expecting it. Raul was always very cunning. I should not have let my guard down when we entered the house."

"Cunning or not, we still have to deal with all those Books of Shadows he's got in there. And I still need to find my birthday present. That thing is a horror just as a book – but the aura that clings to it makes it even more dangerous."

"Perhaps you should consider taking a break for a few days and then come back with a plan." Roarke started back towards the front of the house. "I, for one, could do with a break."

"Not a bad idea," Byron replied. He and Maggie followed closely behind, stomping out stray embers as they walked. "We can head back to the other island and get some sun before you have to come back. I think the other Mr. Roarke would be happy to see you again."

"I doubt it," Maggie said diffidently. "He doesn't know me well enough to like or dislike me. If he's expecting me to be like my mother, he's in for a shock – I'm so _not_ like her."

Byron grinned. "He could always ask Saito about you. I'd give real money to hear that conversation."

Maggie snorted in amusement. "You and me both." She brushed ashes off her sleeve and looked back at the house. "Tell you what – why don't you go back and hang with that pretty shifter assistant of his and I'll hang here. We spend so much time together out in the world, it would do us good to have some down time apart. One island is pretty much like another – sand, sea, surf, tropical drinks with silly umbrellas. I can have fun here and not have to feel like a third wheel while you work your wiles on…what was her name again?"

"Ariel," Byron replied with a grin. "And I was wondering how I could get some alone time with her if you were sharing a room with me. We'd also better check office messages. We've got a couple of outstanding cases that we might need to get back for." He looked at Roarke, who was listening to the young couple's banter with an amused expression. "So, Mr. Roarke, can I trust you with my friend?"

Roarke raised one eyebrow at the young man's teasing tone. "I beg your pardon?"

"I think the better question is, can you trust me with Mr. Roarke," Maggie quipped, grinning at her host. "After all, my grandfather did think we were a good match." Roarke laughed and led the amused couple to the path back to the main house.

In the dark recesses of the house's study, a panel slid open silently, triggered by an invisible hand. Inside the compartment was a square object wrapped in moleskin. Voices emanated from the package, sounds of pain and fear and horror, coupled with an eerie light. Part of the wrapping fell away to reveal an elaborate initial engraved on the face of the book. A woman's voice, sultry and low, called from the depths of the book. "Roarke! I'm here, Roarke! Come to me!"

A masculine voice laughed softly in the shadows. "Soon, Elizabeth. Soon."


End file.
